Conversations
by Cherenmay
Summary: A series of random ficlets that came upon me at random times.
1. A Hard Woman

All right, for all who happened to find themselves on this story page thing (I'm not quite sure what someone would call it), WELCOME! Now, you must read the Author's Notes on each page so that you can understand what's going on. Ok, go on!  
  
Disclaimer: All characters and things belong to J.K. Rowlings.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All of these little "ficlets" take place in only-dialogue form. I once read something of Leibling's (I think that's spelled right) that was written like that, and I was intrigued. I thought I could write some of my own, but the original idea belongs to someone else. And just so you know, none of them are related to the other. That's very important. What happens in one is not related to what happens in another. Ok, and here's the first. It takes place between Ginny and Draco. First Ginny, then Draco, then Ginny, then Draco, etc. You can try to imagine the story it might take place in. All right, here it is.  
  
~~A Hard Woman~~  
  
"They said we were wrong. That we couldn't--wouldn't--understand the way life is." Pause. "And you knew they said that. Didn't you?"  
  
"I didn't even have to try to understand, Weasley. I was brought up different, lived different, loved different. I didn't have to try to succeed or try to do better. Of course life would be different than what it is for them!"  
  
"We're so damned different."  
  
"I've been trying to tell you that all along! Don't you get it, Virginia? We're too damned different."  
  
"You know, I never wanted to believe that."  
  
"Yeah? Well, you'd better start believing now."  
  
"I always thought we were, I don't know, above such absolute bullshit. I thought we could prove them wrong..."  
  
"You can't prove life wrong, Virginia."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No."  
  
"It's a pity, really."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That life can't be proven wrong; that things can't change."  
  
"Oh, things can be changed, all right. Just not by us."  
  
"Then by what, Draco?" Pause. "By what, Draco?"  
  
"Go back to your precious Potter, Virginia, and leave me alone."  
  
"He's not my precious Potter anymore, Draco."  
  
"Look, whatever he is,--you know what? I don't care anymore. I wouldn't give a fuck if you up and disappeared. It wouldn't matter. Don't you see? It doesn't matter."  
  
"It used to matter."  
  
"Yeah, it used to. But it doesn't anymore."  
  
"You don't mean that."  
  
"Yeah? And what do you know about what I mean?"  
  
"I know that you hurt inside. You push and rag on me and everyone else to make that hurt go away. It doesn't work, does it?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Virginia. I don't need this from you."  
  
"Then who do you need it from?"  
  
"Go away, Weasley."  
  
"No."  
  
"Dammit, Virginia! Don't you get it? It's over! We tried to change things and we failed. We fucking failed."  
  
"I don't think we did."  
  
"Oh, yeah? And what do you know about it? Ms. Virginia Weasley; the lovely, the pure, the fucking fairy princess of England! You drew the easy card. It's easy for you to change. Things are different for you."  
  
"Not any different than they are for you."  
  
"Dammit, Virginia! They're different and you know it. Is it clicking in that empty head of yours yet? We can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore."  
  
"Draco, no one ever said it was going to be easy."  
  
"Yeah? And nobody said it was going to be so bloody hard, either."  
  
"No, but we made it this far. What's the use in ending it now when we've come so close to success?"  
  
"Because that last leg is the longest, Virginia. And I don't think I've got enough left in me to reach the end."  
  
"You do."  
  
"No, Virginia, I don't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why? Because it's wearing me down, that's why! I had my whole life ahead of me, assured for me. I was to have it all set up. And then you had to show up with your damned opinions on life and ideas of--of--Utopian romance. I can't work that way, Virginia. Life can't work that way."  
  
"Then we'll make it work that way."  
  
"God dammit! We've been over this! Virginia, we can't change the way things are. We tried already. It didn't work. We lost, screwed up, failed. It's over."  
  
"I'm not ready to believe that just yet, Draco."  
  
"You don't have to believe. Whether you believe or not, that's just the way things are."  
  
"They don't have to be that way."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Yes, they do."  
  
"Not for us."  
  
"We can't change the beliefs of every man, woman, and child on this world, you know."  
  
"Then we'll make our own world."  
  
Pause.  
  
"You're a hard woman to beat, Virginia."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And that's what I love about you."  
  
"I know."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Well, this is my first and, I must admit, my least favorite of them all, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! 


	2. Salt

Disclaimer: All To J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, this one is between Hermione and Professor Lupin. It takes place soon after Sirius' death and is in Grimmauld Place. First Hermione, then Lupin, then Hermione, etc.  
  
~~Salt~~  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"What is it now, Hermione?"  
  
"I--nothing. I just wanted to...to talk."  
  
"Could you talk to me later, Hermione? Right now I don't see anything coming close to me...except perhaps a very large glass of Firewhisky. Very large."  
  
"But, Professor, I have to talk to someone."  
  
"Talk to Harry."  
  
"I tried, but I can't find him anywhere. I think that he's off mourning somewhere..."  
  
"As I would like to be, Hermione."  
  
"But you don't understand. I have to talk to someone."  
  
"Then find Ron or Ginny or Snape for all I care! Just not me right now! I want to be left alone with my thoughts."  
  
"And a good pint of ale to drown your sorrows in?"  
  
"If one's available and I've got the money, yes."  
  
"To think about him?"  
  
"Wh--who?"  
  
"You know who I mean, sir."  
  
"Yes, I know who you mean."  
  
"Good, that's what I want to talk about."  
  
"What you want to talk about?! Hermione, never before have I considered you a busy body, but I'm seriously considering it right now."  
  
"I'm not a busy body."  
  
"Perhaps not purposely, but, yes, you are."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"Then why do you wish to intrude so much on everyone else's grief and play at being a counselor?"  
  
"Everyone else's grief?"  
  
"Yes, everyone else's grief."  
  
"That's not true, sir."  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"No. I share in that grief, perhaps more than you'd believe."  
  
"I sincerely doubt that."  
  
"Fine, doubt it if you want, but I know what I feel."  
  
"I'm sure you do. Petty sadness and nosy pity for those who were close to him. You have shallow feelings, Hermione, unimportant feelings."  
  
"You can't possibly mean that..."  
  
"I do mean it! You didn't know him! You can't possibly understand the pain of it all! The agony! He was my only friend in the world still living. I had no one but him. I've lost my parents, my peers, my community, and I had no one until he came back from something worse than death, only to have him be taken away again. Even you, Ms. Sympathy, couldn't possibly understand that."  
  
"Granted, my pain is not as deep as yours, but you must be very arrogant, very stupid, or both to think that his death would mean nothing to me."  
  
"Hermione, leave. You're giving me a headache."  
  
"No, sir, I will not."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I--I said--n-no, sir, I will--not."  
  
"Why must you torture me?"  
  
"Because you must talk!"  
  
"You're very naïve, Hermione. I must do nothing."  
  
"I am not naïve, sir! I know how to let loose my feelings; I know how to heal my own wounds. And you don't even try to heal yours. You just keep reopening it and pouring in the salt! You won't talk, but you must!"  
  
"Did you ever consider the fact that I may like my wounds? Did you ever think that I don't heal them for a reason?"  
  
"I can't fathom one reason to keep yourself in this agony, sir."  
  
"So I don't forget!"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"So I don't forget. I can't forget; I won't forget! I mustn't forget."  
  
"But you needn't hurt yourself to remember."  
  
"Yeah? Are you so sure about that?"  
  
"Yes. You don't need the salt."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"Salt."  
  
"What has salt got to do with anything?"  
  
"Your scars can't heal with the way you're taking care of them. Wait, don't interrupt me. Like I said before, the minute your pain begins to fade, you rip the wound back open and pour in the salt! It is not I who tortures you. You torture yourself! I want to help you, not hurt you."  
  
"Don't cry, Hermione."  
  
"I'm not crying."  
  
"Oh, God. This is too hard."  
  
"I never told you it was easy."  
  
"Yes, but you never said it would hurt..."  
  
"No, but the pain is justified."  
  
"As was my earlier pain."  
  
"No. It's not the same. That pain hindered, this pain helps."  
  
"How can you be so certain?"  
  
"I don't know. I just am."  
  
"I wish I had your faith in these matters."  
  
"It isn't faith. It's more than that."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. I don't have much faith in faith."  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Would you care to accompany me for a drink, Hermione?"  
  
"No, but I'll accompany you for a talk."  
  
"Good."  
  
"And hold the salt."  
  
"I'll do that."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
This one, I really have no idea why, but I like it. I hope you did too. Please review! 


	3. Shut Up

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All right, this one takes place in Harry's dorm room, and he's there with Ginny. They're discussing Ron and Hermione. First Ginny speaks, then Harry, then Ginny, etc.  
  
~~Shut Up~~  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh, come on, Gin. It's so obvious."  
  
"What? No it isn't! They hate each other. They're always fighting. They practically never speak civilly with each other!"  
  
"Yeah, but he's always starting those fights. He loves those fights. And she rather enjoys them too. Check out the look on her face after she wins a particularly heated one. She's practically beaming."  
  
"Oh, come on, Harry. You're gonna have to try a little harder to convince me that Ron and Hermione are going to fall madly in love with each other as soon as one of them has the nerve to confess their inescapable attraction to the other. It's simply too farfetched. It's basically inconceivable."  
  
"You use a lot of big words, Gin."  
  
"Shut up, Harry."  
  
"But it's true. He talks about her all the time. In the past month, he's talked more about her hair, her eyes, her boo--brains than both Quidditch and food combined. Hey, don't laugh. He has."  
  
"Her 'boo--brains'?"  
  
"Shut up, Gin."  
  
"Anyway, I'm sure he was just saying how much they annoyed him. Though I must admit the part about 'boo--brains' kind of throws off my theory."  
  
"Gin..."  
  
"Come on, Harry, admit it. He complains about her."  
  
"Yeah, but he's always complained about her before, though hardly at all. Now he complains about her all the time. I never want to hear so much about her again. I'm starting to think I know her as well as she knows herself."  
  
"See? He hates her. Well, not hate exactly, but she annoys him. He's just venting off feelings to you."  
  
"Maybe, but I really wish he would vent off to someone else. I don't like the way he talks a--uh, so much about her. And, well, one can get--uh, ideas about her, uh, --character that aren't true. I'd never thought of her as beautiful before, but after listening to him, I'm starting to believe it."  
  
"You exaggerate."  
  
"Do I? Well, you and 'Mione have been thick as thieves lately. What does she say of Ron?"  
  
"Oh, just how much he bothers her, always starting fights. And how tall he's gotten. How his hair's too red. How he always has to get her so riled up. And--oh my goodness..."  
  
"You see? They like each other. And a bit more than just friends, I'd wager."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"What's that all about?"  
  
"Nothing, just shut up."  
  
"Oh, are you afraid that ickle Ronnie-kins will get a girlfriend and leave you alone?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Nothing. Now, tell me. What else do you know about them?"  
  
"More than you'd care to know."  
  
"Try me."  
  
"All right, I'll tell you. I caught them."  
  
Pause.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well, I caught them."  
  
"Harry...caught them doing what?"  
  
"Kissing."  
  
"What?! Why didn't you tell me before?"  
  
"Because you wouldn't believe me."  
  
"Harry, we could've avoided that whole earlier bit of arguing."  
  
"Yeah, but I figure if arguing turns Ron and Hermione on, I ought to give it a shot."  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"Okay, okay. You know, you sound like your Mum when you do that."  
  
"Shut up, Harry."  
  
"So, now you believe me?"  
  
"I never said I didn't."  
  
"What are you talking about? Of course you did!"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"But I could've sworn..."  
  
"Nope, not once did I say 'I don't believe you'."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yep. I did, however, say that it was 'basically inconceivable.'"  
  
"You're impossible, Ginny."  
  
"No, I just figured I'd try arguing to get you heated up."  
  
"Oh, come on..."  
  
"Yep. And it worked."  
  
"Shut up, Ginny."  
  
"Ha! See, you're blushing."  
  
"Ginny, I'm warning you..."  
  
"All right, all right. Just tell me what you saw."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When you caught them!"  
  
"Oh, well, nothing really. And I shut the door real fast, so I'm pretty sure they didn't see me."  
  
"Where were they?"  
  
"Right here."  
  
"Right here?! In your dorm room?"  
  
"Well, it's his dorm room too..."  
  
"Still! Oh, goodness..."  
  
"You're laughing...and blushing."  
  
"Well, it's funny. And embarrassing. What do you suppose will happen between them?"  
  
"I dunno. But I bet it started with that kiss."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then--do you think we could--I don't know--start something?"  
  
"Why, Virginia Weasley! What a bold thing to say!"  
  
"Shut up, Harry, and kiss me."  
  
"Your wish is my command, fair lady!"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Well, I hope you liked it. Review please! 


	4. The Portrait

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this one is between Hermione and Draco in St. Mungo's. First Hermione, then Draco, etc. Read on.  
  
~~The Portrait~~  
  
"You once told me you loved me."  
  
"I did."  
  
"I believed you."  
  
"I know."  
  
"They told me you didn't mean it, not really, but I didn't listen to them. Even you couldn't be capable of such a lie."  
  
"It's good to know someone trusts me."  
  
"So I fell in love with you, more because I felt it was expected of me rather than because we were truly compatible."  
  
"I suspected as much."  
  
"It was easier than I thought."  
  
"It always is."  
  
"And then, one not so special night, you kissed me."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"I never felt so alive or so cared for. I never knew that anything could make me feel so wonderful. I suppose if I had known, I would've kissed you sooner."  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"I remember the looks on everybody's faces when, the next morning after breakfast, I ran up to you and kissed you fully on the lips."  
  
"It was quite amusing."  
  
"My housemates had never given me such a lecture as what I received that day. The way they talked, one would have thought I'd considered killing the Queen."  
  
"I imagine so."  
  
"Even my mother scolded me about it. I don't even know how she got her hands on a Howler. I can still hear her voice echoing off the walls. She said I should learn to better control my hormones."  
  
"Well, I was quite a looker in those days."  
  
"Then graduation came around and both you and I received full marks. I can still remember how the beginning of the ceremony went. How proud everyone was of me and how they grumbled about you."  
  
"No one wants the enemy to do well."  
  
"And then the attack."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"So many deaths. So many wasted lives."  
  
"You needn't go on."  
  
"And then when Harry ended it. I'd never been more proud of him than I was at that moment."  
  
"You always did praise him too much."  
  
"And then you. You fought on our side. No one could believe it. I think that's when they began to really accept the fact that you could really love me and that you could truly be worthy of my affections. I don't think they would have relented otherwise."  
  
"I didn't expect any less."  
  
"And then, that's when I realized I really and truly loved you. I realized it at that moment, when the battle was over. Before you even checked yourself for injuries, you ran to me and held me and comforted me and cried with me. I knew I loved you then."  
  
"The feeling was mutual."  
  
"After that, every waking moment I spent with you. Even many of the sleeping ones. I rarely left your side. I gave you everything in those few short weeks after school ended. I let you have all of me."  
  
"And I gave myself to you in return, you know."  
  
"But your father. He ruined everything. He was still stuck in his old ways, crazed and desperate after the fall of his master. He hated you for abandoning his way of life for a mudblood. He despised me for stealing away his only son."  
  
"Insane, selfish bastard."  
  
"But we were unstoppable. We were oblivious; we were in absolute bliss, totally absorbed in one another. You were my love, my life, my religion, my home. I didn't know or care of anything but you. Even the books and knowledge I craved more than water came second to you. You were everything to me."  
  
"I've been known to have that effect on women."  
  
"We planned on getting married, buying a house in the country, raising a family. We planned to have a life as normal and carefree as today's world would allow. We planned on happiness, and joy, and love."  
  
"Without love there is no life, and without life there is no love."  
  
"Everyone was happy for us. Pleased that I could care for something more than libraries and pleased that you were something more than pure evil."  
  
"They were pleased with me, weren't they?"  
  
"I remember that whole year we spent together: planning, loving, hoping, loving, arranging, and loving. We hardly left each other's arms the whole time."  
  
"Well, you were quite irresistible."  
  
"It was then, at our most happiest, that we fell."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"Your father never did like to give up on his missions, did he? Always had to succeed or die trying. After that day, for the first time in my life, I actually wanted someone to die. I'd never thought that before, even after Cedric died, or after Sirius, or after all those innocents in the last battle. But I wanted him to die that day."  
  
"So did I."  
  
"It was our wedding day. We were getting married. It was the middle of the ceremony. He came in and--he came in and..."  
  
"Stop, please. Don't say it again."  
  
"He stood there at the doors, his eyes wild and his wand raised. He spoke."  
  
"Please. I've heard it before. I don't have to hear it again."  
  
"I couldn't understand all of it. He said something about 'traitor' and 'mudblood' and 'disobey'. The men, they all tried to stop him, to take him out of the hall, but he stopped them all with well placed and practiced curses."  
  
"No more, I beg of you..."  
  
"He approached us, his pale hair floating about his head like a halo, but his eyes were grim and fiery. He came to me, the words of the Killing Curse on his lips."  
  
"Please..."  
  
"The incantation was spoken, the terrible spell on its way. Yet I did not die. I did not die, though now I wish I did."  
  
"Please. No more, please..."  
  
"You saved me, shielded my body with your own. The light, the horrid green light. It took you from me. Took the breath from your lungs, the warmth from your hands, and the love from your heart. It took you away from me..."  
  
"Darling, no more. It's unbearable..."  
  
"They stopped him, Ron and Harry did, with a multiple hit from the same curse that took you. I was safe, but you were gone."  
  
"I can't take your pain anymore. I can't take your pain..."  
  
"They said you'd never come back, but I didn't--don't--believe them. You'll come back to me. You'll come back."  
  
"Darling, I wish I could. Hermione...my darling, my love..."  
  
"I know you'll come back to me someday, my dear Draco. And then we can live our happily ever after as though nothing happened."  
  
"Hermione, it's been nearly 30 years. You must move on. Why do you not listen to me?"  
  
"You'll come back and we'll have children and be happy and live in the country. And then I can leave this stupid St. Mungo's room. And everyone-- EVERYONE--will feel sorry for leaving me here, locked up. And it will all be as before..."  
  
"Oh, my dear, dear Hermione. If only you could forget."  
  
"I love you, Draco. I'll always love you. And I'll always be waiting. Always..."  
  
"Oh, Hermione, I wish I could come back. I would if I could. And I do love you. Really, I do. And I wish we could have lived our lives the way we meant. But, Hermione, why do you never listen to me and forget? Oh, darling, I'm only a stupid portrait. Just a portrait..."  
  
"You'll come back to me, Draco, my love. You'll come back."  
  
"I'm only a portrait, Hermione. Please, hear me! Only a portrait..."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Ok, this was one of the first I ever did. I'm not exactly pleased with it, but, eh, you know how it is. Please review! 


	5. Strange

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, this one is between (of all people) Colin Creevey and Luna Lovegood. It takes place in the Great Hall either right before or right after a meal. First Colin, then Luna, then Colin, etc.  
  
~~Strange~~  
  
"I'm afraid of you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you're strange."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"Yes, you are. You're very strange. The strangest girl in school, I'll bet."  
  
"But I'm not strange."  
  
"If you're not strange, how come that's what everyone says?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe they're strange."  
  
"Then why are you the only one called 'Loony'?"  
  
"I don't know. Why are you the only one called Colin?"  
  
"Because that's my name."  
  
"Well, maybe Loony is my name."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why did you say it was?"  
  
"I didn't say it was. I said maybe it was."  
  
"See, you are strange."  
  
"No, I'm just different."  
  
"But everybody's different."  
  
"Then everybody's strange."  
  
"No. Only strange people are strange."  
  
"What makes me strange and other people normal, even though they're all different?"  
  
"I don't know. But we're normal and you're not."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because they said so."  
  
"Who's they?"  
  
"Everyone."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"And they said you tell odd stories about odd creatures. Is that true?"  
  
"No. I don't know of any odd creatures."  
  
"You don't?"  
  
"No, but I do know a lot of interesting stories about fascinating creatures."  
  
"See? They said you knew odd stories about odd creatures. You lie too much."  
  
"I didn't lie. I know interesting stories about fascinating creatures. That's not a lie."  
  
"Interesting and fascinating are just fancy words for odd."  
  
"No. Odd is a fancy word for odd."  
  
"They were right. You are strange."  
  
"And if you want to know fancy words for simple ones, I've got a few."  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Different and normal are just fancy words for strange."  
  
"No, they're not."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I'm different and normal, but you're just strange."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you are."  
  
"But I'm not any stranger than you."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you are! How many times must I tell you?"  
  
"You'll never get me to believe it no matter how many times you say it." Pause. "You know what I think?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think you're afraid of me, not because I'm strange, but because you're scared that you might be strange too."  
  
"I am not scared."  
  
"Yes, you are. You don't want to be strange."  
  
"So? What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing. Except for the fact that we're all strange."  
  
"No we're not."  
  
"Yes, we are. Think about it. Ginny over there. She's so afraid of being something other than a Weasley. She has to stay in her little façade forever, even if she was offered a way out. That's strange."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"And look at Cho Chang, down at the end. She's still in love with Cedric, even though he's dead. That's strange."  
  
"Maybe a tiny bit."  
  
"And then Harry. He's been so moody lately. Yelling and snapping at everyone. He doesn't even listen to his own friends anymore. That's strange."  
  
"Okay, it is a little strange."  
  
"And then there's you. You're absolutely obsessed with your camera. Most everything that stays still long enough will get its picture taken.--"  
  
"I haven't taken your picture."  
  
"And you're afraid of me, probably the most harmless girl in this school. You ought to be afraid of those more dangerous, like the Slytherin crowd. That's strange."  
  
"All right, you've made your point. I understand. And..."  
  
"And what, Colin?"  
  
"And everyone's a little strange."  
  
"I told you that."  
  
"I know you did."  
  
"And what else, Colin?"  
  
"And you're not any stranger than anybody else."  
  
"Are you so sure about that?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"At the moment?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Good."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
I know this isn't one of the greatest, but it is one of my favorites. I don't know why I like it, I just do. Well, please review. 


	6. Flattery

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one takes place between Hermione and Ron. I think it's somewhere like the Common Room after midnight or maybe at the Burrow. It doesn't really matter. Well, it goes Ron, Hermione, Ron, Hermione, etc.  
  
~~Flattery~~  
  
"Did you always think we were meant to be together?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"We didn't get along well at the very first, did we?"  
  
"No, we didn't."  
  
"I hated you, actually. You weren't very kind."  
  
"And you were too smart. You always had the answers before anyone else could even think."  
  
"I was a very smart girl."  
  
"Was? You are a very smart girl."  
  
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Ronald Weasley."  
  
"On the contrary. It gets me everywhere."  
  
"You're so...guy-like."  
  
"Makes sense. I'm a guy."  
  
"Yes, but you don't have to act so...cocky."  
  
"Why not? Like I said, I'm a guy. I think being cocky is part of our gender."  
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it."  
  
"Oh, come on. What's the fun in being a teenager if you can't say a little innuendo now and then?"  
  
"Wow, Ron. 'Innuendo'. Four syllables."  
  
"See? You're very smart. I'm not even sure I know how us one syllable, much less four."  
  
"You're terrible."  
  
"Ah, 'Mione, flattery will get you nowhere, remember?"  
  
"I wasn't flattering you."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You know, you're really not a lot of fun."  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Well, it's true."  
  
"You're terrible."  
  
"So you've said."  
  
"Okay, fine. We've established so far that I'm smart, you're terrible, and flattery will get us nowhere. We've had a very redundant conversation."  
  
"All right, I'm not entirely sure what 'redundant' means, but I do know that we've been having more of a quarrel than a conversation."  
  
"I was not quarreling."  
  
"Yes, you were."  
  
"No, I wasn't."  
  
"Yes, you were."  
  
"No, I wasn't."  
  
"And we're off into another exciting round of the Granger vs. Weasley Argument!"  
  
"Sarcasm doesn't get you anywhere."  
  
"And neither does flattery, right?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"You know, Hermione, all of your advice sounds remarkably similar."  
  
"More big words, Ron. Bravo."  
  
"You know, I like you better as a brainy know-it-all rather than a smart- alecky bi--"  
  
"Ronald Weasley! What would your mother say of such language?"  
  
"--imbo. What's your problem? Like I'd ever really say a bad word."  
  
"Don't play innocent with me. I've heard you say many, uh, profanities from you when you've simply stubbed your toe! I wouldn't put it past you to use them at other times."  
  
"You're such a kill joy."  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"All the time."  
  
"Not all the time."  
  
"Yes, all the time."  
  
"What about last night?"  
  
"Okay, not all the time."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Most of the time."  
  
"You're terrible."  
  
"So I've heard."  
  
"What will it take to, oh, I don't know, raise your opinion of me?"  
  
"Well, if you keep staying flirty like that, I'd say that my opinion of you would rise faster."  
  
"Flattery will get--"  
  
"--me nowhere. I know, I know."  
  
"Go on. What else about me?"  
  
"Ah! You see? Flattery can get me everywhere!"  
  
"That is, if I let it."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Right. Now, go on."  
  
"Well, I would like it very much if you'd do that little eyelash batty thing you do...Yes! That's it! And if you'd do that little leg thing, you know. The rubby one? Right, uh, that one, yes. I, um, heh, is it a bit hot in here or is it just me? Um, anyways, uh, I...I can't remember the rest of what you can do. I'm a bit, uh, heh..."  
  
"Distracted?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Exactly..."  
  
"Then I'll stop."  
  
"What? No, no, I didn't mean stop..."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because, pretty quick, you'll do that purry thing, you know..."  
  
"This purry thing?..."  
  
"Right..."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"Then...then...I don't know..."  
  
"...then you say?..."  
  
"Right, right...I love you..."  
  
"Good."  
  
"See? I told you. Flattery gets me everywhere."  
  
"You're terrible."  
  
"I know."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
I hope you liked this one. Thanks for reading it, even if you didn't. Please Review! 


	7. IT

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one takes place between Pansy and Goyle. You're probably wondering why, but, heck, I figured, why not. It takes place at like a coffee shop or some similar place where they can be alone and talk about themselves, their wishes, and, of course, Draco. First Pansy, then Goyle, then Pansy, etc.  
  
~~IT~~  
  
"You know what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm thinking about leaving this place."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I can't stay here anymore."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I can't take it anymore."  
  
"Take what?"  
  
"Them."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You know, for a diabolical evil genius' sidekick, you're very daft."  
  
"That's what my mother tells me."  
  
"She's right."  
  
"I know. Now, tell me who?"  
  
"Them, just them. Even you ought to know who I mean."  
  
"Your parents?"  
  
"Yeah, they're a good part of it."  
  
"What'd they do this time?"  
  
"Nothing more than usual. I just don't want to hear it anymore."  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"IT."  
  
"What's 'IT'?"  
  
"The talks about my future and what they expect from me. And what You-Know- Who expects of me."  
  
"Ah, that IT  
  
"Yeah, that IT."  
  
"So...where will you go?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"Nope, I don't. But it'll be somewhere far away from here."  
  
"Oh...will you come back?"  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"For me."  
  
"Maybe. After a while."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"When you come back,...can I go with you?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe."  
  
"Good. I don't like IT either."  
  
"Who does?"  
  
"He does."  
  
"Who's he?"  
  
"You know."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah. He likes it."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I wish he didn't."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"Really? Why?"  
  
"Because, then, maybe, I'd take him with me."  
  
"You would?"  
  
"Yeah. I reckon we could run off together, get a flat of our own. Maybe get married, or maybe not. It doesn't really matter now."  
  
"It doesn't?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because he won't come. He's part of IT and I don't want to take him away from what he loves. IT still means something to him. Like it used to mean to me."  
  
"It doesn't mean anything to you anymore?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But it does to him..."  
  
"Yes, I know. But he'll miss you."  
  
"Will he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He shouldn't"  
  
"No, he shouldn't. But he will."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he loves you."  
  
"Does he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He shouldn't."  
  
"No, he shouldn't. But he does."  
  
"It's sad, really."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"That he's so attached to IT."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"If he loved me enough, he would be able to give it up for me."  
  
"Would he?"  
  
"Yes. But instead I have to give him up."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because of IT."  
  
"Oh. He'll be sad."  
  
"Yes, he will be."  
  
"And angry."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But you'll be happy, right?"  
  
"Yes. For the most part."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because when I leave, there won't be any IT."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"And that's a good thing."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Yes. A very good thing."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Ok, this is another one I like, for some unknown reason. It just appeals to me. Now, it may not appeal to you, but please review anyway! 


	8. Worry

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to all who reviewed and here's the next bit. This is between Molly and Arthur Weasley. I imagine that they're in bed, he's trying to sleep, but she talks instead, mostly about Harry. Somewhere either in OotP or soon after. First Molly, then Arthur, etc.  
  
~~Worry~~  
  
"I worry about him sometimes."  
  
"I know you do."  
  
"He's just a boy."  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"What do you mean, 'not exactly'? He either is or he isn't."  
  
"No, he's in that 'not one or the other' bit. You know the one I mean. Our son's in the same stage."  
  
"They're still only boys."  
  
"Partly."  
  
"I don't want to argue with you about this anymore. They're boys."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Besides, even if he were a man it would be too much for him to deal with."  
  
"It's too much for just anyone to deal with, Molly, but he's made of sterner stuff, you know."  
  
"Not much sterner, dear."  
  
"More than you think, I'm sure."  
  
"You're mistaken. He's a small, angry and scared little boy."  
  
"No. He's a strong, understandably upset and surprisingly brave young man."  
  
"You are too optimistic of him. He is fragile. He's too young to be up against such an evil. It will destroy him if given the time."  
  
"Here is where you and I finally agree, my dear."  
  
"Do we?"  
  
"Yes. It will destroy him."  
  
"But--are you absolutely certain? I'd like to think I was overreacting."  
  
"You're not. What he endures could destroy everyone on this measly planet. He just endures it longer."  
  
"That's not very comforting. Or encouraging, for that matter."  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be."  
  
"You know, you make worrying an absolutely dreadful experience."  
  
"I didn't think it was amusing to begin with."  
  
"It isn't. But most people try to assure the worrier that everything will turn out right in the end. You, on the other hand, point our more worries and make me even more uneasy. It's very cruel of you."  
  
"I'm not offering you more worries, I'm just building on the ones you've already got."  
  
"That's not funny, Arthur."  
  
"It wasn't meant to be."  
  
Pause.  
  
"I'm still worried."  
  
"I figured you would be."  
  
"I think I'm more worried now than I was at the beginning."  
  
"I thought you might be."  
  
"And now I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep tonight."  
  
"That's too bad."  
  
"Now all I want to do is talk with you about him. And how he's getting along. And whether he's eating enough."  
  
"Damn. And I thought maybe I'd get to sleep without your snoring for once."  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
"I thought it was."  
  
"Now I know where they all get it from"  
  
"All who get what from?"  
  
"Where all your sons get their attitudes from."  
  
"So, now they're my sons, are they? Last nigh, when you'd heard that they'd actually done well on one of their school assignments, they were all your sons. Now they're my sons."  
  
"Oh, do shut up."  
  
"Why? You don't."  
  
"I don't know why I married you in the first place."  
  
"Because you love me."  
  
"I'm starting to think loved would be a more appropriate word."  
  
"Now I know where our boys get their tempers from."  
  
"That was a bit too far, Arthur."  
  
"I'm always a 'bit too far'."  
  
"How very right you are."  
  
"But it's good to know that at least Ginny didn't get our bad sides, right? At least she's halfway decent and always so sweet and calm."  
  
"That's not what the boys say."  
  
"Ah, damn the boys."  
  
"Arthur!"  
  
"Well, you always want to say it, I'm sure."  
  
"Yes, but I never actually have."  
  
"Well, you should. At least once. It's quite...refreshing."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Fine. I'll say it again."  
  
"No! Arthur!"  
  
"Then you say it."  
  
"If I say it once, do you promise not to say it again?"  
  
"Yes. You promise not to say it again."  
  
"I--what?"  
  
"You promise not to say it again."  
  
"Arthur..."  
  
"All right, I promise."  
  
"Good. Damn the boys."  
  
"And?"  
  
"It does make me feel better, I'll grant you that."  
  
"I told you so."  
  
"Arthur..."  
  
"I hate that voice. I hope none of our children use it on their children or spouse. It's ghastly."  
  
"That's cruel."  
  
"For the children."  
  
"I still don't know why I married you in the first place."  
  
"And I still say because you love me."  
  
"I'm seriously starting to doubt that."  
  
"Oh, you've wounded me to the quick, dear heart."  
  
"Go to sleep."  
  
"But I can't."  
  
"And why ever not?"  
  
"Because you won't."  
  
"And why won't I?"  
  
"Don't you remember? You must be getting old..."  
  
"Arthur!"  
  
"I didn't mean it."  
  
"I should hope not. Now, why don't I sleep?"  
  
"Because you're worried about Harry."  
  
"Oh, yes..."  
  
"I'm glad that's done. Now I can get some sleep."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Arthur? Are you sleeping?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"Well, wake up."  
  
"What is it now, Molly?"  
  
"I can't sleep."  
  
"What do you mean you can't sleep? You just said you could a minute ago."  
  
"Well, now I can't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I still worry about him sometimes."  
  
Pause.  
  
"I'm not going to get any sleep at all tonight, am I?"  
  
"It doesn't look like it."  
  
"I didn't think so." Pause. "So, what are you worried about now?"  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
Okay, this one was just something that popped into my head one night while I was trying to sleep. It just seemed like something that would happen between them. I can sort of imagine it... Well, anyway, I hope you liked it. 


	9. Aftermath

Disclaimer: All to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one is between Ron and Hermione. I figured that it takes place one night while they were in Madame Pomfrey's care soon after the fight at the Department of Mysteries in OotP. It's mostly just about Hermione sort of being in a bit of shock or trauma and how she feels. First Ron, then Hermione, etc.  
  
~~Aftermath~~  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"F-fine...Really."  
  
"You don't look it."  
  
"No, I don't imagine I would. I have been hit with a very powerful curse only recently, in case you haven't noticed."  
  
"I've noticed."  
  
"Well, that's something."  
  
"Hermione? What's the matter?"  
  
"N-nothing. I'm fine."  
  
"Even I know that's a lie."  
  
"What do you want me to say, Ron? I feel terrible. I ache all over and I can hardly remember anything that happened that night. All I know for sure is that Sirius isn't here anymore and I don't know why!"  
  
"Because he fell, Hermione."  
  
"So? I've fallen many times! And I always managed to get back on my feet. Why can't he?"  
  
"Because he's dead."  
  
"But why? Why is he dead? Why is he gone? It--I just--Nothing makes any sense anymore. I--I can't..."  
  
"Hermione, it's a fact of life. Everybody dies."  
  
"I know! I know. But why him? Why now? Things were finally beginning to look up for him. He'd begun to tak control of his life; he was starting to make something of himself. He was so close to being his own person. Why did that, of all things, get taken away from him?"  
  
"I-I don't know. We can't control these things."  
  
"Why? Why can't we control how we live and how we die? I--I just don't understand...He can't be dead. He shouldn't be dead. I can still see him as he was at Christmas, laughing and smiling. Why can't he be like that anymore?"  
  
"Because he's dead..."  
  
"Yes! You've said that! He is dead! I know! But I don't know why. I need to know why! Why can't he just, I don't know, come back? It doesn't make any sense! He was there! I know he was! Alive and fighting one minute and--and dead and gone the next. I don't understand any of this. He shouldn't be dead. There must be something we can do?"  
  
"You can't bring people back from the dead, Hermione."  
  
"Why not? If everything I learned in Sunday school as a child was--is-- true, then it should be possible. We should be able to bring him back. It should be able to happen."  
  
"We're not God, Hermione."  
  
"And that brings up another point! What sort of God would take away someone like him? He was a good and honest man. He was happy, for the most part, and he was...well, he was Padfoot."  
  
"I know. But you can't change the way the world operates."  
  
"It's stupid."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"That we have to sit here and fight battles that won't even matter in the next few decades. Everything we do here will be obsolete in just a short time...Think about it. In our lifetime big things will happen, at least they'll seem big to us, but in the long run it's all insignificant. He died for a useless cause. A cause that even God doesn't deem worthy enough to take part in."  
  
"That's very depressing..."  
  
"But it's true."  
  
"No. It isn't."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Why not?"  
  
"Because we fight for something good, not merely for the sake of fighting. We try for something better. To make life better than it is now."  
  
"And we're not any closer to winning now then we were when we started."  
  
"Not much, but we're getting there."  
  
"But we can't go on much longer at this pace. Pretty soon we'll all be dead and everything we fought against will take over. They're still a little stronger and a little better prepared than us. We just happened to be very lucky so far."  
  
"Then we'll just keep being lucky, I guess. It's bound to keep us safe for a little bit longer."  
  
"You're very optimistic."  
  
"Yeah, and you're not."  
  
"No. I'm realistic."  
  
"Yeah. Something like that."  
  
"I still..."  
  
"Still what?"  
  
"Wish he wasn't dead."  
  
"Don't cry..."  
  
"I'm not crying. Not really. I'm just remembering. And...and I don't much like remembering."  
  
"I don't suppose you would."  
  
"How--how come you can remember and not cry?"  
  
"I don't know. I guess I'm crying on the inside."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"No, I'm not. But I'm very sad. You know that kind of sad? The one where you're not entirely sure if you'll ever be happy again? That's kind of like crying."  
  
"I guess it is."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Do you think that maybe he would've been all right if we hadn't been-- taken out of action? Do you think we could've made a difference?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"I didn't think so."  
  
"But maybe we could've helped Harry catch that lady after she...well, after she--you know. Maybe we could've changed that. But--I think he still would have fallen."  
  
"You're probably right. I just wish we could've done a bit more than we did."  
  
"Yeah, me too."  
  
"And I wish we could've seen him one last time."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"But--he doesn't have to fight anymore, does he?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I wish I could join him."  
  
"No you don't."  
  
"Don't be so sharp with me. And, yes I do."  
  
"No, love, you don't. You want to live."  
  
"You just called me love."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Good, but I still wish I didn't have to fight anymore."  
  
"Someday you won't."  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
"I hope I am too."  
  
Pause.  
  
"But what if you're wrong?"  
  
"Oh, come on. I thought you'd finally gone to sleep. Can't we finish this in the morning?"  
  
"No. I don't think I'll remember very much of this in the morning."  
  
"All the better for me..."  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothing. Go on."  
  
"What if you're wrong about everything?" What if the fighting doesn't end? What if we lose the fight? Or what if one of us dies fighting? Like me, or Harry, or you? What if that happens?"  
  
"It won't happen."  
  
"How are you so sure?"  
  
"It won't happen because I won't let it. We're best friends; all of us. The best kind of friends too. You know the sort I mean. Nobody that's close like we are will die."  
  
"Are you sure? Romeo and Juliet were close to one another."  
  
"I don't know who they are, exactly, but I suppose it's something Muggle, eh?"  
  
"And all of those people from the Lord of the Rings books died. And one of them was a king."  
  
"Again, that's probably Muggle. Though why being the lord of a ring is so special, I don't know."  
  
"And what about Emily from OUR TOWN? She even had a son and a husband. She shouldn't have died. And--and Mufasa from the Lion King. And Princess Diana with her family, and Grace Kelly, and George Jung. All right, he isn't exactly dead, but he might as well be. And Buddy Holly, John Lennon, and millions of others."  
  
"Again with the Muggle! Don't you have some wizard analogies?"  
  
"The point is, they were as close as we are, if not more, and they died. Who's to say we won't die."  
  
"Look, we may die eventually, but I'll try my hardest to stop that. You believe me, don't you?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"It's hard to be nice to when you're acting so...difficult."  
  
"I'm not being difficult. I'm being practical and truthful."  
  
"Either way, it makes no difference to me. I'm only trying to be kind."  
  
"Well, you're doing a lousy job of it."  
  
"What? I've done my part. I've comforted you, I've tried to help you understand, but I'm not your bloody mother! I'm doing the best I can."  
  
"Yes, but you're still doing a lousy job."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You don't sound sorry."  
  
"I'm sure I don't."  
  
"You don't have to be so cruel."  
  
"Look, I'm trying! What do you want me to do? Cry like a bloody baby? Do you want me to be bawling my eyes out like you?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, that would make me feel better."  
  
"Well, too bad. I'm not crying. Not for anyone."  
  
"I didn't think you would."  
  
"Good. 'Cause I won't"  
  
Pause.  
  
"How do you suppose Harry's holding up?"  
  
"Again with the talking. Hermione, I just want to go to sleep. Please. You can talk to Harry about it in the morning."  
  
"No, he won't want to talk about it."  
  
"Hermione, did you ever think that I don't want to talk about it?"  
  
"No, I hadn't."  
  
"Well start thinking about it."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Ron, can I say one more thing?"  
  
"Like I could bloody stop you."  
  
"I wish none of this had ever happened. Voldemort, Ministry of magic, Sirius. None of it."  
  
"Yeah. Me too."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"What is it now?"  
  
"C-could you please--I'm scared and sad and I...Could you hold me?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please. Just hold me. Nothing more. Just stay with me tonight. For once, I couldn't care less what the teachers will say. Just hold me."  
  
"You're not acting like yourself, Hermione..."  
  
"I know. But nobody's been acting like themselves lately."  
  
"That's true..."  
  
"Just do as I say and hold me, Ron."  
  
"Fine, fine..."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Goodnight, Ron."  
  
"Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
~`~`~`~`~  
  
I know this wasn't a very good one, but it's sort of how I reacted when someone in my family died recently. Though, I will admit, I was with family. But similar thoughts kept running through my head and I just supposed this is how Hermione would act if she were in any way like me at all. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review. 


	10. Hufflepuff Stuff and Nonsense

Disclaimer: all to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All right then, this one delivers exactly what it promises, Hufflepuff Stuff and Nonsense. It's a bit of conversation between Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbot. You can imagine where it takes place, but let me warn you before hand. It's stupid, really, but it was rather fun to write, you know? Well, first Hannah, then Ernie, etc.  
  
Hufflepuff Stuff and Nonsense  
  
"Good Morning!"  
  
"What's so good about it?"  
  
"Geez, sorry. What's the matter with you today?"  
  
"Nothing. Everything's just absolutely peachy, Abbot."  
  
"Fine. If you're gonna be like that, forget I said anything."  
  
"I'll do just that. Now, if you don't mind..."  
  
"You're really no fun today, Ernie."  
  
"That makes sense, seeing as how I'm not trying to be."  
  
"Fine, I'm going." Pause. "You're not trying to stop me."  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"I don't know. Usually when people are upset, they want to talk about it."  
  
"That's all well and good. Except for the fact that I'm not upset."  
  
"You sure act like you are."  
  
"A prefect does not get upset. A prefect is above such things."  
  
"Maybe...but regular people aren't."  
  
"I'm not 'regular people' anymore, Hannah."  
  
"You're right."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You're a thick-headed, pompous ass."  
  
"Now see here--!"  
  
"And you're very...very egological."  
  
"Egotistical, Abbot."  
  
"See? You couldn't last a day without correcting someone. You're sort of reminding me of my old Primary School teacher. She did the exact same thing."  
  
"Really, Hannah, that's a bit too much. I'm not some stuffy old biddy."  
  
"Right. I bet you couldn't go a day without correcting someone."  
  
"I could."  
  
"You wouldn't do very good at all."  
  
"Well."  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"It's 'you wouldn't do very WELL at all.' Not 'good.' Well."  
  
"See? You failed already."  
  
"Shut up, Abbot."  
  
"I don't have to, Ernie."  
  
"You're such a child."  
  
"Uh-uh! I am not!"  
  
"You act like one."  
  
"You're not a very good friend."  
  
"Neither are you."  
  
"What? Why am I not a good friend?"  
  
"You're nosy and you won't leave me alone."  
  
"I'm not nosy. I just want to know what's bothering you and why you won't tell me."  
  
"You're not proving your point very well. Just so you know."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Do you really want to know what's bothering me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If I tell you, will you go away?"  
  
"Most likely."  
  
"I'll take that as a yes."  
  
Pause.  
  
"So? Are you going to tell me?"  
  
"No. I don't think I shall."  
  
"What? But you just said you would!"  
  
"Fine. I'll tell you."  
  
"Finally."  
  
"You."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"You."  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"You're bothering me."  
  
"I am?"  
  
"Yes. And you're not making it any better by staying here, you know."  
  
"I don't think I'll go away just yet. Why do I bother you?"  
  
"Oh, God..."  
  
"Was it the whole 'pompous ass' thing? Because I didn't mean it. You ought to know that about me by now."  
  
"It's not that."  
  
"Or is it about comparing you to my old teacher? Or yesterday when I called you a stuffed-up old prune? Or the day before when I said you looked as though you constantly had a wand up your arse? Or when..."  
  
"I'm leaving now, Hannah..."  
  
"But, Ernie! I'm trying to help!"  
  
"Oh, you are so full of stuff and nonsense. You're a right old hag when you put your mind to it."  
  
"Now, Ernie. That was uncalled for."  
  
"Yes, I suppose you're right...You don't have to put your mind to it. You're always a right old hag!"  
  
"Ernie MacMillan!"  
  
"Good. At least that got you to shut your gob for a bit. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a prefect's meeting to attend."  
  
Well, there you go. Stupid, I know, but it was fun to write. I guess I figured that even Hufflepuffs must squabble occasionally. Please review. 


	11. Trust

Disclaimer: all to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All right, I know I said at the beginning that none of these little ficlet thingies would be connected, but I couldn't resist adding something to this one. This is a companion piece to IT, but it takes place between Pansy and Draco. I figure them sitting in the common room late one night, when they're pretty much alone. It's pretty much about Pansy sort of studying Draco and trying to decide how much she ought to tell him. First Pansy, then Draco, etc.  
  
Trust  
  
"Sometimes I wonder about you."  
  
"What's there to wonder about?"  
  
"Not much, but I still wonder..."  
  
"You're very annoying, Parkinson. Did you know that?"  
  
"I ought to know by now. You say it often enough."  
  
"And I'll say it again, too, if you don't leave me alone."  
  
"But I'm afraid to leave."  
  
"Afraid? Of what?"  
  
"Of leaving you alone."  
  
"What in hell would make you afraid to leave me alone?"  
  
"I don't trust you."  
  
"Well, at least you've learned something about me after all these years."  
  
"And you should be glad I've learned my lesson well."  
  
"Why, pray tell, is that?"  
  
"Because I have a feeling you'd be dead now if I did trust you enough to leave you alone."  
  
"You obviously think very little of me."  
  
"On the contrary, I look up to you. I respect you more than I do any other. But respect and admiration are different than trust."  
  
"You're a girl of many faces, Parkinson. I don't know what happened to the snarling creature that used to hang on my arm and throw rude comments at every turn. I'm not so sure I know you."  
  
"I'm still the same old Pansy at heart and I'll tear your throat out if you ever cross my path. You'll do well to remember that."  
  
"Ah, see? That's my Pansy. Bloodthirsty, ruthless, and totally heartless."  
  
"That's how I've always been."  
  
"Not anymore. You've changed somehow. I can't pinpoint it, but it's there just the same."  
  
"Maybe I haven't changed. Maybe it's you."  
  
"No, I'm just the same. I'm the same platinum-haired, smart-mouthed, and totally sour person I've been throughout my life. And you used to fit into that life perfectly. Sometimes I used to think you had a sharper tongue than I. But you're different now."  
  
"I suppose I simply think differently."  
  
"Think differently? How could you think differently?"  
  
"I think for myself now. It's not that my whole process of thinking changed, or maybe it has, but it's that now I think of what's best for me."  
  
"You sound a little selfish."  
  
"No, you misunderstand. I don't think about what I can gain, I just think about if it's the best decision for me. Not if it is for you or anyone else."  
  
"You're not making much sense."  
  
"No. I don't suppose I am."  
  
Pause.  
  
"There's something you're not telling me. I can see it...in your eyes. You don't want to tell me."  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"But you will."  
  
"But I will."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Well? What is it?"  
  
"I'm leaving soon."  
  
"Well, yes, so am I. It's nearly the summer holidays. I'll be leaving for home."  
  
"I'll be leaving. But not for home."  
  
"You taking your holiday somewhere else?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"So, where? London? France? Spain? Italy?"  
  
"I don't know yet. But it will be somewhere...somewhere fantastic."  
  
"You could always drop by the manor, if you wish. Father and mother won't mind."  
  
"No, I don't think I'll ever go back there again."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for you anymore? Are you above me now?"  
  
"I never have been above you."  
  
"I should bloody well say not."  
  
"You've always been too good for me."  
  
"Quite right."  
  
"And that's part of the problem."  
  
"Problem? What sort of problem?"  
  
"Our problem, the one between me and you. You don't need me the way I need to be needed."  
  
"You're not making any sense."  
  
"I know. If I make too much sense then you'll tell your father and all my wonderful dreams will be dashed."  
  
"I won't tell my father any of your secrets, Parkinson. He couldn't possible be interested in the dreams of some homely schoolgirl."  
  
"That's just the thing. I'm not 'some homely schoolgirl' anymore. And another thing. I don't tell you because I don't trust you."  
  
"But you love me."  
  
"I know I do."  
  
"And I love you."  
  
"It's good to hear you finally say it."  
  
"So tell me. People who love each other share their feelings with each other."  
  
"But you wouldn't understand. What I could say would only tear us further apart. And, besides, sometimes the best thing to do for someone you love is to let them alone."  
  
"Then why don't you leave me alone, Parkinson?"  
  
"Because I still don't trust you. Not yet."  
  
"You don't trust anyone."  
  
"I trust myself."  
  
"Fat lot of good that does you."  
  
"I still wonder about you sometimes."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"I wonder why you're so attached to the life you lead. It isn't a good one. It will not lead you to greater things. It will only lead you to pain, betrayal, and ultimately, if such a place exists, hell."  
  
"That's where you're wrong. My life will lead me to wealth, power, and a place of importance. I don't believe in heaven, or hell, and I don't plan to visit either one."  
  
"And that's why I can't stay."  
  
"Because you fear hell?"  
  
"No, because I can't bear watching you take yourself down a path where you must pay homage to some creature who isn't entirely a real person."  
  
"I could have you killed just for saying that."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But I won't. I still love you enough to forgive you that minor indiscretion."  
  
"And I thank you. But I've got to go now."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But...why?"  
  
"I already told you."  
  
"But-but I love you! I plan to marry you. You can't leave me!"  
  
"I'm sorry, but my leaving will be better for the both of us. In time."  
  
"Damn it all, Pansy! You can't leave!"  
  
"I can and I will."  
  
"But I love you..."  
  
"And I love you, but some things are...stronger than even love. I can not allow myself to lose everything I hold dear just to satisfy you. You're worth more than that. You deserve someone who will be content all their days with you. That's not me."  
  
"It could be you. I love you."  
  
"But not enough to sacrifice him for me. And I need to be more than second best."  
  
"Fine. Go out and see the world, live in poverty, lose yourself in all the slums you can find. You'll be dreaming of our time together and waking in tears. You'll regret leaving before the year is out."  
  
"Goodbye, Draco. I won't forget you. And I think I can trust you now with your life. You understand me now. Goodbye."  
  
Pause.  
  
"I used to trust myself, but now that she trusts me...well, I'm not so sure if I can trust myself anymore."  
  
Okay, a bit weird, but, eh. I like to write 'em, so I write 'em as I want. Well, review, please! 


	12. Stealing Hearts

Disclaimer: all to J.K. Rowlings  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, to start off, let me just say that this whole heart business actually happened at my school. On Valentine's Day all of the girls had to wear a paper heart on a string and they weren't allowed to talk to any of the boys. If they did, they had to give their heart to the boy that made them talk. If the girl still had her heart at the end of the day she got a candy bar and the boy with the most hearts at the end of the day got some prize as well. This follows the same idea, but with a heart being magicked to the girls and it goes onto the boys when they talk. And this takes place in the Gryffindor common room on Valentine's Day with the game going on. Ron and Harry are trying to get Hermione's heart. First Ron, then Harry, etc. Oh and there's a little bit of Hermione near the end. Just keep in mind, Hermione's there the whole time, but she can't talk. Okay, go on.  
  
Stealing Hearts  
  
"This has got to be the craziest scheme Dumbledore's come up with to date."  
  
"I absolutely agree with you."  
  
"Complete hogwash."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"This stupid heart business is absolute codswallop."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"We can't even get her to speak to us. Look at her. Her face is all red. You can tell she wants to talk to us."  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"But she can't if she wants that nice bit of chocolate from Honeydukes at the end of the day. It's quite a prize. I wouldn't mind it meself."  
  
"Neither would I."  
  
"But the only way we'll get some is if we steal the most hearts."  
  
"How do we do it? Steal the hearts, I mean. They're fastened quite securely to-well-to a place I shouldn't think to put my hand anytime soon."  
  
"I should bloody well say not! The little bugger's smack dab in the middle of her blouse. You put your hand there and I'll kill ya. Then Hermione'll take her chances with ya after I'm through."  
  
"Hey. She opened her mouth."  
  
"Yeah, but no words."  
  
"It was a close call, that."  
  
"Yeah. Very nearly got her to talk to us, didn't we?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, how many hearts you got so far, mate?"  
  
"Three. Luna's, Parvati's, and Ginny's."  
  
"Ha! You got Gin's!"  
  
"Yeah. Purely accidental. We both forgot what day it was. I came down the stairs and asked her what was for breakfast and, before you know it, the little thing jumped off her robe and onto mine."  
  
"I wish I could've seen the look on her face. I bet she was in a right state."  
  
"Absolutely mad she was." Pause. "How many have you got?"  
  
"Four. Lavender's, Susan's, some Ravenclaw, and, if you'll believe it, Pansy's."  
  
"Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"The pug-faced Slytherin princess? Also known as Malfoy's simpering girlfriend?"  
  
"The one and only."  
  
"Wow. I'll bet he wasn't too keen on that."  
  
"Not a bit."  
  
Pause.  
  
"So, how do you suppose we get Hermione's heart?"  
  
"By getting her to talk, numbskull."  
  
"I meant, how do we get her to talk."  
  
"I don't know. We could try all the usual things."  
  
"Right...like what?"  
  
"Like...Snape is a slimy git who's going to poison us all during class and not give us the antidote."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Oh, very close, mate. She's turning quite a lovely strawberry color. You can tell she's really wanting to say something."  
  
"When does she not want to say something?"  
  
"Look at her now! She looks like she wants to--oh! She did smack you. I thought she just wanted to. Good one, Hermione."  
  
"Shut up, Harry."  
  
"Why? I'm not in danger of losing my heart."  
  
"Good. I don't want yours. I want hers."  
  
"That sounds kind of odd, you know."  
  
"This is so stupid. Whoever thought of this ought to get a smart whack on the head."  
  
"It was Dumbledore."  
  
"I know that. And he still ought to get a good hit. Though I doubt it would knock much sense into him."  
  
"You're baiting her, Ron."  
  
"Only a bit. Nothing serious."  
  
"She thinks differently. Get a look at her. She's practically boiling."  
  
"Practically."  
  
"You have a gift for getting the girl angry."  
  
"What can I say? I'm blessed."  
  
"By the scowl on her face, I'd say she begs to differ."  
  
"Well, to beg she has to talk. Will she talk?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"You didn't really think she would, did you?"  
  
"No. It would have been un-Hermione-like if she had. She never gives up once she puts her mind to something."  
  
"Hey. Look at her now. You've complimented her."  
  
"Yeah. Just like a mule, that one. Stubborn as hell. But she's got a thicker head."  
  
"You're really pushing it now, mate."  
  
"Yeah, but she's still not talking."  
  
"But you can still keep trying to make her talk."  
  
"Okay, try I shall."  
  
"You're a brave soul, Ron."  
  
"Aye, I am." Pause. "Now, my book-worm friend. Imagine that Harry and I weren't there. You'd probably be reading, which you do anyway. And you'd be fuming at me or Harry...probably me, now I think of it...and you'd be doing research on something for your damned spew project. Which, by the way, only Dobby seems to support."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Good try, that. She opened her mouth and everything."  
  
"Yeah, but, well, it's not good enough."  
  
"Give her another go."  
  
"Ha! That alone made her mad. Let's try it again, shall we? You know, give her another go. Why does she get so angry at that, I wonder?"  
  
"I dunno..."  
  
"Ah, anyway...huh...you know, Harry, Hermione looks kinda pretty when she's all riled up."  
  
"Whoa, Ron. That's pulling the game a bit too far."  
  
"No, I'm serious. Look at her. She's like a picture. You know, the whole wavy hair, rosy cheeks, doe-eyed kinda thing. See what I mean?"  
  
"I think you've spent too much time around those potions fumes, mate. You've gone off your rocker, you have."  
  
"Nah...She's just very pretty. I never noticed before...Wow, look at her now when she's not angry. Even prettier."  
  
"Okay, now I know you've lost it."  
  
"Maybe I have...But I think I'm having one of those piffy thingies. I just realized 'Mione's not only a girl, but a damn pretty one."  
  
"I think you mean 'epiphany', Ron."  
  
"Yeah. Too bad I'm not getting the OK. I'd kiss her in a heartbeat."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Oh, dammit all, Ron. Just go on and kiss me already."  
  
"Ha! Did you see that? I told you I'd get her heart! Didn't I? Well, here it is! Honeyduke's chocolate, here I come!"  
  
"Smooth, Ron."  
  
"Thank you. As I said before, I got a gift for making her angry."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Ha-ha! Ron! She got you good! Now, do you have a gift for getting out of that body-bind?"  
  
Well, I like that one, simply because I think it's how some of the day would have gone in my school. That is, if we had magic. Oh, well... Please review! 


End file.
